


Nothing in this World Worth Living For

by Mimsys



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Male Friendship, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, and graphic descriptions of suicidal thoughts, but an attempt, no actual suicide, suicide TW
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 20:39:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2746226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mimsys/pseuds/Mimsys
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve Rogers is the man out of time and sometimes he wishes he'd never been pulled from the ice. After a bad mission and a lot of blaming himself, Steve thinks he wants to end it all. It takes a futurist and his A.I. to save him.<br/>-<br/>"Steve was used to not being good enough. Of being too scrawny to be picked for games, of not being able to pull his wait, of draining his family’s meager income with his constant sickness, of never being good enough. Losing Bucky was the last straw. When he was pulled out of the ice, the blond wasn’t sure he wanted to be. Stark was right when he said that everything special about him had come out of a bottle. Steve wasn’t anything special, not like Peggy or Bucky. Hell, not even like Tony, who’d made his Iron Man suits, J.A.R.V.I.S., and dozens of fantastic machines Steve could never hope to fully understand – even if he’d never fulfilled Howard’s promise of flying cars. And what was Steve? Just a guy from Brooklyn who couldn’t even save his best friend."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing in this World Worth Living For

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE READ TAGS. This fic could be very triggery for people upset by depression or suicide.

Steve was used to not being good enough. Of being too scrawny to be picked for games, of not being able to pull his weight, of draining his family’s meager income with his constant sickness, of never being good enough. Losing Bucky was the last straw. When he was pulled out of the ice, the blond wasn’t sure he wanted to be. Stark was right when he said that everything special about him had come out of a bottle. Steve wasn’t anything special, not like Peggy or Bucky. Hell, not even like Tony, who’d made his Iron Man suits, J.A.R.V.I.S., and dozens of fantastic machines Steve could never hope to fully understand – even if he’d never fulfilled Howard’s promise of flying cars. And what was Steve? Just a guy from Brooklyn who couldn’t even save his best friend.

When he wasn’t with the Avengers, Steve spent his time working out in the gym, splitting bags and bloodying hand wrappings and generally just trying to stop the world from hurting quite so much. It didn’t really help but the exhaustion and activity could out the drown the pain and loss for a short time. If Steve thought he had the right to end the life so many people died to protect, he would have by now. Instead, he devoted himself to serving the country he’d already died once to save. (On that note, didn’t he have the right to live, or not live, his life the way he wanted? He’d already given it up once. But no, he knew the war was never over, and he was nothing if not a soldier.)

But now, after a particularly stressful mission in which all of his teammates had been injured in one way or another, Steve couldn’t help but shoulder the blame. He should have been faster, should have drawn fire, should have thrown his shield to protect Natasha instead of covering his own position, shouldn’t have assumed she didn’t need him, should have seen the enemy going for Tony, bringing him crashing down toward the earth like a ruby and gold meteor. It was Bucky all over again.

With his teammates gone off to lick his wounds and Stark getting chewed out by Fury at S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ, Steve was alone in the Tower, perched stiffly on the edge of his bed and trying not to dwell on each of his mistakes, each of the times he was a second too slow. It wasn’t working. It was his fault, of course it was. It always was.

“ _Captain Rogers?_ ” J.A.R.V.I.S. was, as always, perfectly polite as he interrupted Steve. “ _Might I suggest that you spend some time in the gym? You seem agitated, and exercise is your normal reaction to such._ ”

Steve snorted, turning his face up towards the ceiling. “Don’t think that will help. No one’s going to be home for a while, are they?”

“ _Sir will be back first, after the debriefing, but he’s still a few hours out. Would you like me to send for someone to assist you with your distress? Perhaps a shower would help, or sketching. Sir bought you some charcoals just last week.”_

Steve shook his head, processing the information coldly, already distancing himself from what he planned to do, thinking of the gun he knew Natasha kept in the hallway at the bottom of a vase. He stood and went to fetch it, leaving dirt scattered in the hallway as he fished it out. A shame, he thought with a wince, but they’d have a bigger mess to deal with soon anyways. Cold. He shouldn’t do it here. Shouldn’t make them find him. But if he didn’t do it quickly, he’d psych himself out, and he couldn’t have that.

It felt like the ice. Grief closing in around him, enveloping him, pulling him into its embrace and promising relief, if only he’d let it. He was tired of resisting, of fighting.

He returned to his room, turning down the picture of Peggy on his nightstand so she wouldn’t have to see him like this, clutching the replica he’d had commissioned of Bucky’s dog tag from where it hung beside his own. “J.A.R.V.I.S.?”

“ _Captain Rogers, I have detected no threat in the building. Agent Romanoff will not be pleased that you removed her firearm._ ”

“I need you to write a letter for me, to play back for Tony when he gets here.”

“ _Captain, I am alerting Sir to your distress. He will be here shortly, if you’ll just remain calm until he does so._ "

Steve continued as if he hadn’t heard the A.I.; he knew he wouldn’t have much time once his irregular behavior had been noted, but he didn’t need much time for this, not even with his enhanced healing factor. “I know I haven’t been a perfect leader, and I’m not even sure that I was a good one, but I hope you know that I care very deeply for every member on this team and I’m sorry to have to leave you like this. I’ve come to understand that I am a liability and I wouldn’t want to be the cause of any further problems on the team. Peggy doesn’t remember me a majority of the times I visit, so perhaps it would be best that I stop trying to force her to relive her past in the little time she has left. She deserves to move on. You all do.” 

His voice cracked painfully and the blond became aware that he had tears coursing down his cheeks. He’s holding the gun to his forehead now, chest heaving with the force of his ragged breaths. “I’m sorry I let you fall, Bucky. I should have been there for you like you were for me. At least I’ll get to see my mother again.”

“ _Captain!_ ” It shouldn’t be possible, but Steve thinks the A.I.’s voice has grown shrill and tight with panic. “ _Sir is on his way! If you could please set down the firearm and take a deep breath._ " And then the walls are showing pictures of families who had lost members to suicide, sharing stories of people who attempted to take this own lives and were glad that it hadn’t worked. Strings of text and pictures and worried, British tones all overlapping. And then, when Steve’s finger wavered, a faded sepia picture of Bucky with his arm slung over Steve’s shoulder.

His hand fell back to his side, gun swinging almost limply, passively, from his curled fingers. Steve barely notices, let alone cares; he’s too busy staring at a photo he hadn’t even known existed. And then, of course, that’s when Tony comes crashing into the room – literally crashing, Iron Man suit protecting him from the damage. He tackled Steve, suit and all, and pressed him back against the ground when the blond struggled to get up, to explain.

“I know you haven’t been seeing the therapists S.H.I.E.L.D. recommended for you and I understand it, I do, alright? They don’t know what you’ve been through, likely weren’t even born when you went into the ice, but that doesn’t mean you can just break apart like this without telling anyone.” His gauntlet-clad fingers are shaking, the whole man trembling, and his visor retreats to show worried eyes that look suspiciously puffy and red as if he’s been crying. “We can’t lose you, Rogers.”

Steve set the gun down carefully, sliding it away from the two of them, and tilted his head back to meet Tony’s eyes. “I’m sorry.” He replied softly, sounding broken. “I wanted it to stop hurting.” He doesn’t know what the world calls it nowadays – shell shock or PTSD or Soldier’s Heart or any of the other half a dozen names that were tossed around when men and women came home from war with holes they didn’t know how to fill.

“You could have told us.” And then Tony’s hands were pressed against his chest through the thin material of his T-shirt and it’s cold from the metal but it’s something that proves Steve’s alive and he grabs hold of that and uses it to ground himself, reminding himself that the discomfort was preferable to what could have happened. “You could have told me, Steve. I could have gotten you a therapist for you to talk to. Hell, you could have talked to any of us.”

“ _Heart rate decreased, Sir._ " J.A.R.V.I.S.’ voice comes from the wall and Steve becomes distantly aware that the A.I. can read his vitals from his points of contact with Tony’s suit. He doesn’t struggle though. He’s done with fighting. Steve’s limp and pliant beneath Tony except for the faint shaking in his body and the fact that he was clearly trying not to cry. “ _Body temperature dropping. Possible cause: reacting to emotional shock. Suggested remedy: warmth and observation._ ”

“We’re getting something warm in you and then we’re going to talk.” It should sound like a threat. It doesn’t. It sounds like a promise, and one Steve clings to. He nods shakily, allowing Tony to pull him to his feet and lead him down to the lab. He even allowed Tony to lay him out on the couch, curling in on himself as soon as he was lowered onto it. A blanket is draped over him and Steve’s surprised to see that it’s DUM-E and not Tony, as the latter fusses quickly with his coffee machine and returns to Steve’s side with a mug of dark, bitter brew. “It’s not great, but it’ll warm it up. Come on, Captain. We need you. Open up; I’ll help.”

Steve parted his lips reluctantly and warming ceramic was placed against them, sips of coffee spilling gently into his mouth. It wasn’t hot enough to scald his tongue but it wasn’t comfortable (or tasty) either, so he wrinkled his nose in protest and Tony seemed to get the hint, setting it aside. “Tony?” Steve asked hesitantly, “Did you mean it?”

Tony’s pinched, worried expression softened slightly. “Of course I did, Cap. We need you. Now scooch over.” He joined Steve on the couch, half draping himself over the other so they could both fit.

“You’re still wearing your suit.” Steve complained as unyielding metal pressed against his skin, squirming slightly, and was rewarded with a dry chuckle and a nod as the futurist twisted his body to allow for the pieces to fly off of him without hitting the other or making him stand. His gauntlets stayed on, however, and Steve didn’t have to ask why; the gentle beeping filling the room made it perfectly clear. J.A.R.V.I.S. was still monitoring his pulse, making sure he was okay, and the Captain knew it wasn’t fair to complain. So he curled his arms hesitantly around Tony’s waist, buried his nose in the crook over the other’s neck, and tried to relax against the man. It was hard, of course it was, but there was nothing in life worth having that wasn’t. A gloved hand curled around the back of his neck, holding him close, and the other tangled in his hair. It was intimate, probably more so than Tony had intended, but it felt safe. Secure. Like home. With Tony wrapped around him, there wasn’t room for the ice to do the same; with Tony’s touches grounding him, memories couldn’t overwhelm him, much as they tried.

“It’s good to have you back, Cap.”

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, are you feeling down and like you don’t matter? I understand that life can be really hard sometimes and that you might feel small and helpless because of it but I hope you know that you matter to me, ok? I might not know you but I still value you.


End file.
